


Green-eyed Monster

by tersa (alix)



Series: Dragon Age:Present Imperfect [6]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Holidays, Jealousy, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alix/pseuds/tersa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Nathaniel and Marian continue to minimize any overt displays of their relationship, seeing Marian dancing with a charming Ander mage at the Satirnalia feast is more than Nathaniel can stand by for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green-eyed Monster

**Author's Note:**

> A 'Part II' may eventually get written for this, but this part can stand on its own in case that never happens.

Vigil’s Keep was so different during Satinalia.

Around Marian, people smiled. People _laughed_. Music skirled through the gathering of Grey Wardens, their companions, and a few key people—nobles, merchants, and a few guard lieutenants—from the city of Amaranthine invited by the Warden-Commander in her secondary role as Arlessa. Servants, both humans and elven, threaded through the gathering that encircled the center of the Keep’s throne room, which was cleared for dancers to come together.

Demers nudged her with a shoulder. “You should go out there.”

“Hah,” she scoffed at the rogue, taking a quaff from her cup. The mead slid down her throat and coiled warmly in her belly. “I haven’t danced in years. I’m not dressed for it.” She slapped her trousered thigh, and gave a toss of her head. “Besides, who would partner me?”

“I would,” he replied regretfully, with a twist to put his hand out palm up. “But I have to stay off this leg for a few more days.”

“What _did_ Edain do to you?” she asked with a malicious smirk.

In the dimness, she couldn’t see the blush, but from the way he ducked his head and his muttered, “None of your business,” and Edain trying to hide an embarrassed smile on his opposite side, she guessed and snickered before elbowing him good-naturedly in the ribs.

An accented male voice interrupted their banter. “Marian, isn’t it?”

Marian looked up to find the speaker standing before her, smiling tentatively. She recognized him, even if she’d never met him—another Grey Warden, a mage, transferred here from the Anderfels. He’d swapped out the standard blue and silver robes for something more festive, dark trews under a tunic burnished gold in the light of the torches and a long green surcoat. Her heart flip-flopped-- _Anders_ \--but it was a passing resemblance, that was all. “Nils, right?”

He smiled, further banishing the similarity her mind had leapt to, and as if discussing it had summoned him, asked, “I was wondering if you would like to dance?”

Demers had the grace not to elbow her back, although she half-expected it after the long pause she took to consider the offer. She hadn’t seen Nathaniel since leaving his room in the morning, pretty certain that he along with the other senior Wardens were engaged with the nobles and other important guests. Even if she had, it wasn’t as if it was likely he’d dance with her. And she did miss it. With a brazen grin, she rose from the bench and offered out her hand. “Love to.”

As the dancers lined up, the musicians started up a new tune, one thankfully familiar to Marian as it was a few years removed from the halls of Orlais, via the Free Marches. She could fall into the familiar pattern of the steps despite the surge of memories the melodies evoked, of parties in Hightown, Sebastian gallantly squiring her to help fend off unwanted attention by parents hungry to marry their sons off to the Champion of Kirkwall, and of the pang she’d always felt, wishing Anders could be there with her instead. Circling Nils, their fingertips pressed together, the ghostly similitude returned, if only by the way his hair was tamed by a tie in the back, or the timber of his voice, that she recognized as a stronger example of the cadence echoed in Anders’s. A flutter filled her belly, which she was astonished to realize was the first spark of attraction, something she hadn’t felt for a long, long time. She saw the answer to it in his green eyes, they way they held hers, although their interaction was completely proper.

The music ended, and he made a small bow over her hand, reminding her once again of Sebastian, and she couldn’t help giggling, her free hand flying up to cover her mouth with her fingers in a flirtatious gesture learned for the Viscount’s court and executed out of pure habit. His smile widened, probably recognizing the subtle interplay, but his expression filled with mild regret when he escorted her back to her friends. “Thank you, Marian, it was a lovely dance.”

“And you, Nils,” she smiled back, meaning it, before accepting her cup back from Demers.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” he asked her with puzzled interest.

 _Kirkwall_ nearly escaped her before she caught herself. Drinking deeply from her cup—dancing was thirsty business—bought her the time to substitute, “My mother. She learned when she was a little girl, and taught me.”

“She must have been a good teacher.”

With an unladylike snort and a toss of her head, Marian said, “What, I couldn’t have been a good student?”

“Incoming,” Edain interjected in a murmur, his eyes fixed on something behind her.

She turned and corrected, _someone_ , seeing Nathaniel materialize out of the throngs. Her first thought was how _fine_ he looked, exchanging his usual drab attire—not that he didn’t look good in the leather armor, too—for velvet and wool of dark blue and green trimmed with silver. She’d never seen him dressed up like that, and she wished, for a moment, that he’d been around, looking like this, for all those dull parties in Kirkwall.

Then again, it would’ve gotten complicated with Anders being alive then, so maybe not.

Muddled by that conflicting thought, it was easy to be further confused when he took her hand without warning and tugged at it.

Her eyes widened with the surprise, having barely enough time to hand her mug back to Demers before Nathaniel veered without a pause, heading for the nearest door. Some heads turned, tracking their passage, but something about what they saw in Nathaniel’s demeanor drove them to turn back to what they were doing. She trailed him with growing bemusement lacing her curiosity at his behavior. Despite their relationship being common knowledge, he was never overt about it—dragging her off from a party, even if it was from the back of the room and out a side door, was the most public acknowledgement he’d ever made.

The noise of the party subsided as the door closed to a dull, indistinct rumble through the stones, and still Nathaniel walked with purpose down the hall, turning off into one she’d never before had reason to travel, then turned again. The sounds of habitation had all but disappeared before he slowed, pivoting to put his free hand to her waist, using the touch to guide her into one of the many shadowed alcoves lining the corridor between the brackets bearing lanterns.

Her shoulders bumped against the stone of the wall as he pressed her gently against it, freeing her from the silence she’d mirrored in him. “Why, Nathaniel Howe,” she teased in a hushed purr, raising her arms to wrap them around his shoulders and sliding one hand up the back of his neck so fingertips stirred the nape of his hair under its long fall, “it’s almost as if you wanted to get me alone.”

His response was to lean into her so she felt the warm length of him from thigh to chest, the quickened rise and fall of his chest, before he brought his face close to hers, head tilting and eyes half-lidding. He paused there, his breath curling across her skin, his nose grazing hers, as if coming to some decision, inviting her to act, waiting for some sign, and desire surged up hot and swift in her. When his mouth finally brushed against hers, feather-light, a soft puff of air escaped through her parted lips, and he began trembling, the pressure of the kiss increasing as it deepened, his tongue flicking out demand entrance, which she allowed with a moan.

She was uncertain how long they spent like that, except that when she pulled away from his face a fraction, her lips felt swollen and wet. Licking them, she opened her eyes to meet his, a shifting of her body staying a resumption of the intimacy. She whispered, “What brought this on?”

Even backlit as he was by the pools of light in the hall, she was close enough to see the embarrassment flit through his expression as he took a few seconds to compose his answer. “I saw you dancing with that man.” He leaned more heavily against her, making her very aware of the heavy knot pressing into her hip.

“Nils?” she asked rhetorically, wanting to see his reaction. He dropped his gaze to one side and gave a bare dip of his chin. A corner of her mouth pulled up in a wry half-smile, but her voice softened. “Howe—were you jealous?”

The hands at her waist began to make small circles, the bunching and shifting of fabric setting up a delicious friction against her skin. Flickering his eyes back up to hers, he said, “Yes.”

“At least you can admit it,” she murmured, pulling him in to re-capture him in a hungry kiss. He shuddered against her, his hands able only to explore short paths along her sides, while she dropped one of hers to caress the length of his spine. A shift of her weight, and a thigh slipped between his, a flex of her knee brought it snug against his erection until he moaned against her mouth. Wrenching her lips from him once again, she breathed, “It’s too bad I’m not wearing skirts tonight, or you could have me right here.”

“The thought did occur to me.” His words almost a rumble in his chest, voice husky with desire, and he rocked into her, sending pleasure lapping through her body.

“There’s always another idea…” She trailed off suggestively.

“What?” he asked, riding her into the wall again.

A gasp escaped her, before she replied. “Your chambers.”

“For lack of skirts…” He gave her a thorough, mouth searching kiss that left her quivering, before he pulled back, offering her out his hand.

She accepted it with an anticipatory smile.


End file.
